X-Men Origins: Angel
by SonOfCoul27
Summary: This is a retelling of the story of Warren Worthington III aka Angel. It starts when he is young and tells the story of his life, but some of the major events have changed. This is how I wish the story of Angel went.
1. Chapter 1

_Hey so this is how I wish the story of Angel went. A lot of the major events are different so I hope you like it. The inserts at the beginning of each chapter are a different point of view and you have to figure out who it is but I'm sure you can without a problem it's pretty obvious._

* * *

He was 11 when his condition developed.

It wasn't a normal condition, so he couldn't go to a normal hospital. Instead he stayed home, locked in his room, hiding from the world.

His condition made him different.

It made him not fit in.

He hated not fitting in. He hated his condition, and, by association, he hated himself. He knew something was _wrong_ with him. Normal people didn't have conditions like this. Normal people were normal.

He wasn't normal.

He _had_ been normal, back before his condition. But now he wasn't. So he hid.

* * *

Warren Worthington Ⅲ had been born a prince. Well, not quite. There were no princes in America. But it was the best next thing. His father, Warren Worthington Jr., was the owner of Worthington Industries, so Warren had been raised in paradise. He had everything he'd ever wanted and more. He lived every kids' dream. To sum it up, he was rich.

He went to a private boarding school in his adolescence, and had the best education available. He made friends (or, at least, acquaintances,) and was never lonely. Everyone else there was wealthy, so he wasn't viewed as a snob. He enjoyed others' company, and they enjoyed his. He even had a girlfriend. She was the most beautiful girl in school, and he believed it was true love. (It was, in a way. It was the truest form of adolescent puppy love, but it was not everlasting.)

One day they found themselves alone in a garden. Before he knew what was happening, he leaned in close, closer than he should have, and kissed her on the cheek. She was startled, but excited, and she quickly turned and kissed him back. He melted on the spot, and she mumbled a smiley good-bye before scurrying away.

That night he woke to a horrible itch on his back that he couldn't quite reach. Glancing in a mirror he saw an angry red rash covering his shoulder blades, but he was too in love to care.

The next day the rash was still there. It persisted throughout the week, but he ignored it. His mind wandered, thinking about the kiss. The girl wasn't in school for the rest of the week; she was supposedly out sick. He ignored his back, thinking nothing of it. But the pain slowly escalated until he couldn't stand it any longer.

Friday night rolled around, opening up a weekend of relaxation for the students. Warren was alone in his room, examining his back. His shoulder blades looked unusually… large. They protruded an extra inch from his back. He shrugged it off as swelling from the rash, and expected it to be gone in the next day or so. Rubbing on some soothing ointment (his father had a whole first aid kit delivered to him on the first day of school) he went to bed.

That night Warren tossed and turned. His back was in excruciating pain, and he wasn't used to sleeping on his stomach.

The next morning he was so tired, he missed the tiny feather sticking out of his back…


	2. Chapter 2

Why couldn't he be normal?

Why did _he_ have to deal with this condition? Why not someone else?

Why did none of his questions have answers?

Why?

* * *

The pain wouldn't go away. It brought many more days of torment, and many more sleepless nights. By Monday Warren had received approximately 5 hours of sleep in the past two days, and he was too exhausted to care anymore. He slogged through the day, his mind just barely pumping his blood and making him breathe. He was a zombie, lost in an esteemed private school. Most of the teachers saw he wasn't okay and let him be. He sat out of gym and slept through his science class. When he got back to his room he collapsed right on the bed, not even bothering to unbutton his unusually tight uniform.

He woke up the next day hungry and woozy. He felt unbalanced, and almost fell over backwards a few times. He felt unusually light, but shrugged it off as the lack of food in his stomach. When he reached the mini fridge (also a gift from his father) he stretched, and heard a horrible sound of fabric tearing as his uniform ripped. He felt the fabric around his neck loosen as he realized how tight it had been. It must have shrunk in the wash… He quickly pulled the ruined shirt over his head, gazing at the large, jagged gash down the middle. It had split at the collar and ripped half way down the back.

As soon as his shirt was off his back felt… relaxed. He felt muscles relax as the tightness left his back, and felt his shoulders shift in ways they shouldn't. If felt relieving to be free of the restraint of the shirt, but then Warren felt something… different. Something that wasn't there before. He felt like there was _more._ Of what, he didn't know.

Rushing to the bathroom, he gazed in the mirror, twisting his head around to look at his back. What he saw nearly made him pass out. His shoulder blades had extended, far more than physically possible, four or five inches at least. And they were covered with blindingly white feathers.

On second thought, he did pass out.


	3. Chapter 3

He was so alone. No one loved him. They couldn't. Not with his condition.

Well, they could, but they chose not to. They hated him. Because he was different.

They were scared. Of him. And he was scared, too. Of himself.

Because of his damned condition.

He was alone. In his fear.

He had no one.

* * *

Warren woke up with a pounding headache, his skin pressed up against the cool bathroom floor. He stood up, not remembering what had happened. Then he saw a single white feather, lying still on the dark blue floor.

He panicked. He ran out of the bathroom, close to hyperventilating. (At least, he thought he was going to hyperventilate. He'd never actually done it before, so he didn't know what it was like.) What was wrong with him? What was on his back?

He collapsed on the bed, crying. He tried to muffle his sobs with the thick comforter, since there were other rooms right next door. He cried and cried and cried, until he had tired himself out. They he lay there in a blank daze, his mind still working to process what was going on. Warren lay there, not really thinking, his mind separate from his body. Eventually he pulled the comforter on top of him and curled up into a tight ball, his back shifting in ways it never had before. He didn't even notice that the pain and the rash were gone.

Warren spent the next few days in his room. He had enough food in his fridge to last him a few days, even if most of it was soda and chips. He spent most of the time gazing at his back, still trying to process the… whatever they were. The... _extensions_ had grown at an alarmingly fast rate, and they had taken the shape of wings, like the wings of an angel. They were roughly the size of a piece of paper, and the longest feathers reached down and tickled the small of his back. He found that he could control them with his mind, turning them and flapping them, as if they were a part of his body. And they were. When he plucked a feather off he felt the sharp prick of pain, and he could feel the muscles in them moving as he told them too. They felt as natural as an arm, and yet they were so foreign, and so terrifying.

He, of course, didn't go to school for the next few days. He called the office and told them he wasn't feeling well, he was going to rest for a few days. He also sheepishly asked for a new, larger uniform, after mumbling a short explanation about how it had ripped. When it arrived he tried it on. It fit, but the wings - he had decided to just call them what they were - stuck out in an unnaturally large lump. He could flatten them to his body with a single thought, but it still wasn't enough. People were bound to notice, and he had already resolved to never let another living sole find out about his… condition. He had to figure out some way to make them flatter.

He ended up tying strips of his ripped shirt around his torso, tightening them until the wings were almost seamlessly flat against his back. It was extremely uncomfortable, and the wings had to be almost curled in on each other, but it was better than nothing. On Friday he squared his shoulders and stepped out the door.


	4. Chapter 4

A thought struck him. Could he _get rid of_ his condition?

His mind immediately snathched onto the idea. Could he be normal? Could he be loved?

But how? Was it even possible? His mind swam with all of the questions. He tried to focus, but he couldn't. His mind was its own; he had no control.

He thought of the large, sharp knives in the kitchen.

Could he?

No.

But… Could he?

* * *

He immediately wanted to go back inside. There were a few other boys in the hallway, and they all turned to look when he came out. Some called greetings and said they were glad to see him feeling better. He ducked all of their gazes and headed towards the cafeteria.

He sat by himself, alone in the corner. He received many questioning looks, but no one was kind enough to come sit with him. Suddenly he found himself blinking back tears. _You did this,_ he thought. _This was your choice; don't be a crybaby._ He wolfed down his breakfast and then spent the rest of the time before first period looking in the bathroom mirror, fidgeting with his shirt. He worried the lump was too obvious, but in actuality it was not noticeable at all, unless you were, for some reason, obsessed with the shapes of people's backs.

The rest of the day passed without incident: At least, no one mentioned his back. He squirmed in his seat all day, but he couldn't find a comfortable way to sit. When math rolled around he searched anxiously for his girlfriend (her name was Amara) but she wasn't there. His friends told him she had been out sick, too. He was disappointed, but also relieved. Is she noticed his back, or, even worse, touched it, she would find out about his wings. And he could imagine what a disaster that would be.

Once school was over, he went back to his room and hastily yanked off the horrible harness. Immediately his back felt relief. He felt himself relax. He had made it through the day with no one noticing his wings, and he counted that as a victory. When he looked in the mirror he saw that the wings had gotten larger. The long feathers at the tips just barely brushed the top of his pants. A fearful thought struck him: Would they just keep growing, forever getting bigger? He shoved the thought out of his mind, telling himself he'd cross that bridge when he got to it.

He flapped his wings, relishing the cool breeze that swept through his feathers. He could feel every one of them like he could feel each of his fingers. Another thought struck him, and he felt stupid for not realizing before. He had wings, so did that mean he could _fly_? Excitement raced through him at the prospect of that. He flapped his wings, faster than he ever had before. It wasn't hard; he'd just never thought to try it before. Willing himself to rise off the ground to no avail, he flapped harder. It still wasn't enough. He tried jumping in the air, off of his bed, and even took a running start. Still nothing. He pushed harder, trying so hard, but still with no results.

He paused, and then realized his mistake. He was just flapping forwards and back; merely stirring the air. He needed to go up and down, not front and back. Angling his wings so they were more or less parallel to the floor, he tried again. This time he didn't even have to try half as hard before his feet left the floor.

And suddenly he was _flying_. He let out a joyful cry as his body rose up off the ground. He slowly inched up towards the ceiling, barely even straining himself. For the first time since his condition appeared he felt true joy. He moved forward and back, up and down. With a single though he moved effortlessly through the air. He tried tilting his body forward and nearly crashed face-first into the floor, but managed to right himself at the last second.

And then he remembered the window. The curtains had been drawn for the last week - even though he was on the second story, he didn't want to take any chances. But what if he could…? No, it was crazy. But with wings sprouting out of his back, Warren had accepted the crazy. And he was ready to try.


	5. Chapter 5

His mind had gone rogue. He watched as his body got up and walked towards the kitchen. He tried to stop, but it was no use. He was trapped in a body that was no longer his.

There they were; gleaming and sharper than he'd first thought. His body, yet not his body, reached out, and picked one up, and held it up to his face…

Suddenly the spell was broken. He threw down the knife, finally back in control of his body. He couldn't do it. Even if it meant being rid of his condition.

But the thought never left his mind. It was a weed that had planted roots, determined to grow…

* * *

Warren stood at the windowsill, halfway out the frame. He looked down, and his stomach jumped, but he didn't feel nauseous. The ground swam before him, so much farther away than he first thought… But no. He wouldn't let fear stop him. He was a Worthington, after all. Flapping his wings, he felt his feet leave the floor, and suddenly he was outside.

He braced himself for the fall, but it never came. He pried open his eyes - he hadn't remembered shutting them - and saw the ground falling farther and farther away. Suddenly he was above the roof, soaring higher by the minute. He laughed joyously, twisting back and forth, feeling the wind rustle his feathers. He swerved left and right, and even tried a barrel roll. His arms and legs flung out wildly as he rolled in the air, then he righted himself with a flick of his wings. It was _amazing_. His arms stretched out at his sides as he glided through the air, barely even straining himself. Maybe… maybe, this would be worth it.

Suddenly a gust of wind bowled him over. It felt like a kick to his gut, and he curled up instinctively. Unfortunately, he also curled his wings in, so suddenly he wasn't flying anymore.

He was falling.

Warren plummeted towards the earth at an alarmingly fast rate. He was pretty high up, so he didn't go splat before he righted himself. But it was close. By the time he thought to unfurl his wings the roof had gone rushing past. He flared his wings and was caught off guard by the sudden upward thrust of the air hitting his wings. He was jerked upwards and back, nearly slamming his shirtless self into the dorm building. He flapped frantically and finally straightened himself out, swooping low over the nearby gardens before gaining altitude and gracefully looping back around.

He headed back towards the dormitory, flapping backwards as he slowed to an almost-stop in front of his open window. He grabbed onto the window sill, then pulled himself through, his still-flapping wings smacking the walls. He kept flapping until his feet were safely on the floor. Suddenly exhausted, he collapsed into the bed, falling right to sleep.

The next few weeks passed smoothly. Warren fell into a regular routine. He would tie up his wings before going to school, then, when he got back to his room, would let them loose to relax them and air them out. He used his ripped shirt for a few days, until the strips of cloth were stretched too thin to be of any use. Then, he discovered a much more practical way to do it by using a few belts. It was just as uncomfortable, but easier to use, so he stuck to that method. He practiced flying on the weekends, but was still flying shirtless. He was having a hard time putting on a shirt that allowed his wings to stick out, and even though he'd cut holes in the back of many of his shirts, he could never put them on right, or reach around his back to pull the wings through the openings.

The wings continued to grow. He had to tuck the long end feathers into his pants now, and the bulk of the wings were almost as long as his back. He realized that he had two small indents in his back that the wings fit into nicely, so it helped with making his back seem as normal as possible. He would shy away if anyone tried to pat him on the back or grab his shoulder, but other than that he tried to act as he normally would. He sat at his normal lunch table, and accepted invitations to play ball in the park often. His friends didn't seem to act any different towards him, either.

He was, however, disappointed to see that Amara never came back.


	6. Chapter 6

_Hey so just adding this in as an afterthought if anyone is reading this that means its actually a kinda good story so yeah. This is my first fanfic and I've been writing this for a while now and I'm posting a lot of chapters at once because, okay lets be completely honest, i couldn't figure out how post before. So thanks for reading up to this point and I hope you keep reading. Hope you like it! (Also anything in italics is a message from me)_

* * *

He sulked in his room, thinking if he didn't leave he couldn't do it. But he was wrong. His sulking only fed the evil weed in his mind, allowing it to stretch its tendrils out and envelope him. Soon it was all he could think about; getting rid of his condition.

And then the weed took over completely. He once again found himself in the kitchen, holding the sharp metal object. But this time he couldn't let go. His hands involuntarily brought the knife to his back, closer and closer, _so close_ now, a few minutes and it would be done. He would be rid of this goddamn condition. But, in his panic, fighting to stop his own body, he realized something: He didn't _want_ to get rid of it. At least, not now, not like this.

The knife inched closer, he could feel the cold metal on his back, on his shoulder, then pressing, gently first, then harder, pressing in, more and more…

Then he felt the pain. It was like ice water dumped on his head, waking him up, back in control. He quickly drew the knife away and saw it was smeared with warm, sticky blood. It was something from a horror movie come to life, and he once again threw it away and ran from the room. He felt something slowly drip down his back, and wiping it away with a towel, he told himself he couldn't. He _wouldn't._

Not today. Not yet.

* * *

Warren was in his room doing homework, his wings stretched out in the air behind him, when he heard the screams.

He ran to the window, looking outside, and immediately saw a huge blazing mass of what should have been the school's theater/auditorium. It was yellow with fire, shooting hungry flames into the darkening evening sky.

He was about to leap out the window, but then calmed himself down and tried to think rationally. The fire department would be here in probably 20 minutes, but by the sound of the screams, there were people trapped inside. Could they wait that long? And what good could Warren do? He wasn't fireproof, and he had no experience. He had no idea if he could even carry a person to safety. But one look at the blazing building made up his mind. Leaping out the window, he flew towards the burning building.

Halfway there, Warren realized he couldn't just fly into the building. If people saw his face they would know who he was, they would find out he was different, they would realize he was a _freak._ His whole life would be over. But then he realized he was charging into a theater, so there had to be a stray costume somewhere. He dove into the back of the building, which was backstage and not yet on fire, grabbed a costume off of a rack and threw it over his head. Forcing his wings outward, he felt them rip through the fabric, creating two wing-sized holes. He then grabbed a small mask, which thankfully already had eye holes cut out of it, and flew around the huge curtains onto the stage.

He choked on a sudden wave of heat as he neared the flames. It was immediately ten times harder to breathe, and he coughed as he inhaled a lungful of smoke. He jumped to the side to avoid a falling chunk of burning wood, and was about to turn around and leave when he heard the screams again. The sounded like they were coming from the second story balconies.

He flew up and hovered in the center of the room, where it was more open and he could see better and have more room to avoid falling objects. Spinning in the air, he scanned desperately for the source of the screams. He suddenly noticed that he could see very small details that would normally be unnoticeable. He saw a curtain 50 feet away rustle slightly, and a small screw drop from above, and a shoe sticking out of a doorway across the room… A shoe! He flew over to it and saw that it did in fact belong to a person. This person was huddled next to a few other kids and the Behind the Scenes club leader. Their club must have been up in the balcony when the fire started. When they saw him their eyes widened, but many were already paralyzed with fear, and they had nowhere to go anyways, so no one moved.

Warren flew over and landed on the small opening, noticing that the floor was warm. The fire was steadily creeping up the walls. He grabbed the first kid - a young girl, probably about 9 or 10 - and held her like a bride, flapping his wings and flying off the ground. He had to flap a little harder, but found that he could carry her with relative ease. He was about fly back behind the stage when he noticed the huge curtains had caught fire. There was no way he could get past them without serious burns. He looked around frantically, twisting in the air as the girl squeezed her arms around his neck, eyes scrunched shut.

Then he noticed the window in the roof. It was closed, but large enough for him to fit through… Making a (probably stupid) decision, he sped towards the window, curling in his head protectively over the girl before smashing through the glass.

He felt tiny shards of glass cut into his neck and wings, but he emerged into the cool night air relatively unharmed. He quickly set the girl down a safe distance from the building, then zoomed back inside. He picked up another child, a boy about his age, and carried him outside as well.

When he went back inside, he saw the fire was about three-quarters of the way up the wall to the balcony, and it was steadily rising. Soon it would engulf the balcony and everyone in it. There were still three children and the teacher left. Trying to speed up the process, he picked up two girls at once, wrapping an arm around each of their waists, and growled at them to hold on tight. He strained his wings, flapping hard, and was able to carry them outside, although it took a little longer. He then went back for the last child, and once they were all safely outside, he flew back in for the teacher.

By this time the fire had reached the balcony and started climbing the wooden guard rail. He flew over to the waiting teacher, who stood a whole foot taller than him and, well, wasn't exactly a thin man. Warren worried if he would be able to carry the man, but didn't hesitate. Wrapping both arms around the man's belly like he was giving him a bear hug, Warren instructed him to hold on tight.

At first, nothing happened. Warren flapped harder, and still nothing. He kept beating his wings faster and faster, until finally, miraculously, his feet rose off the ground. He flew away from the balcony, and to his credit the man did not flail around or struggle. He must have been petrified, but he remained calm. Warren flew out of the window, and had to carefully slow his descent as to not let the added weight drag him to the ground too fast. His feet touched down on the grass where the rescued students were anxiously waiting, and they cheered when the teacher's feet finally reached the ground. He stumbled forward a few steps, then gathered his students and rushed them farther away from the burning building. The young girl who he had first rescued turned and looked at him hovering in the air, and called out to him. He just barely heard what she said.

"Thank you, mister angel man." Then she turned and ran after the teacher.

Red lights flashed as the fire trucks pulled up, and Warren quickly flew away.


	7. Chapter 7

He didn't want to. But he did. So badly. He wanted love. Of course, many stupid actions were fueled by love. He was no different. But he was. He was young. So young. Too young to be so alone. And in youth a person does stupid things. So he really was no different.

If he couldn't end his condition, he could end it all. All the pain, all the suffering. He could be loved. All he had to do was do it.

Thus he found himself on the balcony railing, thirty stories up.

He was up, but he was ready to go down.

Ready to fall.

* * *

The next day there were plenty of rumors going around the school. Stories were passed on in through the sacred rituals of note passing and ear-whispering, and it was talked openly about at lunch. Word was an angel had saved the people in the theater last night. The five children that had been saved all claimed a winged man wearing a pure white gown had saved them, and many believed it was an actual angel. The teacher said he couldn't speak about his religious opinions, but he did hint that he had been flown out through the roof.

It was all anyone talked about. Teachers struggled to maintain control of classes, and police had to ward off flocks of students trying to see the wreckage of their would-be theater. Everyone had the same question on their minds: Who was this angel?

Warren walked with a new pride in his step. Sure, no one knew that he was the "angel," but he was proud that he had saved the people. Maybe he could use his "condition" to help other people. Maybe being a freak wasn't such a bad thing after all.

Eventually the talk died down, and news of the angel became old. People moved on. Warren went back to his normal routine, and all was calm.

Until the school announced they were doing scoliosis testing.

To a normal person this wouldn't be a problem, but if you had big, feathery wings on your back that could be exposed by this simple test, you had a big problem.

Warren was frantic, trying to figure out how he could skip the test. It inched closer and closer, day by day, until finally it was the day before. Warren was nearly making himself sick, worrying about the test so much. He couldn't let his secret be exposed…

He ended up calling his father. He didn't enclose any details, just urgently asked his father to come pick him up. He would have to tell his father in person, and he could imagine how that would go. Hey dad, I kinda have wings growing out of my back and I've had them for a while now and didn't tell you by the way thanks for picking me up let's go now.

So his father came, and a secretary brought him up to Warren's room. He, of course, immediately asked what the hell was going on. The lady who had escorted him up quickly left the room to avoid the wrath of Warren Worthington Sr. Warren took a deep breath and steeled his nerves, preparing to reveal the secret he had kept for over a month now.

"Dad, promise me you won't freak out." He glared angrily at Warren, but nodded.

Warren slowly slipped his shirt over his head. His wings were still strapped down tightly against his back, so his father only saw the belts around his chest and abdomen. He then undid the bottom belt, then the top one, still keeping his wings curled against his back. Slowly, he unfurled his wings, watching as his father's eyes grew wider and wider. Once they were fully extended he flapped gently and rose a few feet off the ground.

Then his father fainted.


	8. Chapter 8

He was falling… Falling… So slowly, too slowly, he couldn't wait, he wanted it _now_ , he didn't want to wait… Too slowly…

* * *

He rushed over to his father and quickly shook him awake. He came to in a daze, looking around confused. When he saw his son with wings extending from his back he scrambled quickly backwards across the floor.

"Warren… what are those… those... _things_?"

"They're wings, dad. And… they're mine."

His father gazed at him for a few seconds, then slowly stood up. He stepped towards his son and gently reached out to touch the wings. At the feel of his father's fingers he instinctively yanked his wings back. His father flinched away, but Warren slowly stretched them back out. He felt his father's fingers rub one of his feathers, ruffling it into an awkward position. When he let go Warren shook out his wings, and the breeze messed up his father's immaculate hair.

"But… how?"

"I don't know. They just started growing out of my back a few weeks ago. But… they're a part of me. I can feel everything they feel. They're like an arm or a leg… I don't really know how to describe it."

Suddenly his father's face hardened. "Son, put your shirt back on. You're coming home immediately."

"But dad! I'm fine here, I just needed some help skipping the scoliosis test. The nurse will find out about my wings if I don't skip it." But his father allowed no argument. Warren clipped on the belts and pulled on his shirt, miserably following his father out the door. His father exchanged whispers with the secretary then marched his son out to a waiting car. Warren kept his eyes down, his wings twitching against the harness, yearning to be free. They rustled when he got into the car and he had to curl his back to actually sit down.

He spent the rest of the three hour ride back to New York City gazing silently out the window. Warren squirmed in his seat, shifting his position every ten minutes. His father told him to sit still, but a meaningful look from Warren quieted him. When they finally arrived at the Worthington building his father immediately left the car and marched into the building, leaving Warren to find his own way inside. He knew the building like the back of his hand, but being away at school for so long made it feel foreign and unnatural.

The receptionist gave him a key card and let him in, and he rode the elevator thirty stories up to his room. His father had designated Warren his own floor for whenever he came home. It was equipped with a full kitchen, bathroom, living room, and two bedrooms. One was his, and the other was a guest room in case he ever had any friends over. He never did.

Warren walked to his bedroom. The walls were bare and the shelves were dusty. He had the slightest feeling that he was in a museum and not his bedroom. The bureau was filled with his clothes, and the bed was made with his robot-patterned sheets, but it still didn't feel like his room. He only lived here in the summer, between school years, and even then he was out most of the time in other villas his father owned.

He flopped down on his bed, moaning and rolling over when he landed on his wings. He took his shirt off and unbuckled the belts, letting his wings stretch out in the air behind him. His father was the only other one with access to this floor, and his floor to ceiling windows were tinted on the outside, so he was sure no one could see him in there.

His father never came to see him. Days passed listlessly. Meals were sent up to him regularly, and he spent the days in his room, doing nothing. He used his enhanced eyesight to watch the people on the street below living their daily lives. He had his own TV, but after what he'd been through all of the shows seemed stupid and pointless.

The days turned into weeks, and his father still never came. Warren didn't want to leave his room, partially for fear of someone seeing his wings, and partially because he had nowhere to go. Eventually he drew his curtains and hunkered down in his room, barely coming out to eat.

One day something… _evil_ possessed his mind. Depression set in, and he stopped eating. He started to hate his wings, and decided that they had ruined his life. He believed no one loved him, and dark thoughts filled his mind. He thought of the sharp objects in the nearby kitchen. He _wanted_ them. He was scared, scared of himself.

And then one day he found himself on the balcony ledge, wings tied behind his back, ready to jump.


	9. Chapter 9

_This is where the two point of views overlap (as you've probably already figured out.) There will be more inserts from (not gonna spoil who it is you have to figure it out yourself) but they are also set in the future like the past ones and eventually they will overlap._

* * *

He was falling, so slowly, yet quickly, rushing towards the ground. He passed floors, making his way down the building. He had reached about floor 20 when a figure appeared next to him.

"Please, don't do this!"

Warren glanced at the figure falling beside him. It was a young, African woman, probably in her 20s, with long white hair. She was wearing a black suit with small x's in circles etched into the shoulders, and she looked worriedly into his eyes. She had a weird cape attached to her wrists and neck, but it hung loose and created a lot of loud, flapping air resistance.

"Are you going to stop me?" She shook her head no, but continued to fall next to him. He was probably at floor 15 now.

"Only you can stop yourself." She was shouting to be heard over the wind, but it seemed quite somehow, like a secret she was whispering in his ear. He felt tears squeezing out of his eyes.

"No one loves me!" He was at floor 10 now, the sidewalk quickly rushing up toward him. She looked at him pitifully and he hated her for it.

"I love you."

It only took those three little words to change his mind. Tearing off the belts that restrained his wings, he flared his wings and let out a muffled _oomph_ as the wind slammed into his shirtless body. Shooting upwards, he flew away from the building, surprised to find the woman flying after him. She shot ahead and motioned for him to follow. Accepting her challenge, he rocketed after her, following her out of the city to the part of New York that could pass for a Connecticut countryside. She swooped down towards a large stone mansion surrounded by sports fields and courtyards. Briefly he wondered how she was flying, but he followed her nonetheless. She lighted down on an open balcony, and he landed next to her. She smiled warmly at him, and even though they had just met he smiled back.

A man in a wheelchair rolled out of the building into the sunlight. He was bald and had a kind look in his eyes that could maybe be described as a loving father's look. He rolled up to Warren and extended an arm. Warren suddenly realized he was wearing no shirt and his wings were stretched out behind him. He leaped into the air.

"Wait!" the woman called after him. "It's okay, you don't have to be afraid here! We're like you." He paused in the air but didn't fly away. The woman held out her hand and her eyes clouded over until they were pure white. A small cloud gathered in her hand, and tiny raindrops began to fall from it and coat her hand.

"Yes, she does have powers. And so do I." Warren wondered how the man could answer the exact question he had just been wondering.

"I can read minds. Now please, come back down." Warren flapped cautiously down to the balcony, and this time he properly shook the old man's hand.

"Hello, Warren. My name is Charles Xavier, and welcome to my school for gifted youngsters."


	10. Chapter 10

He felt the air rush past him, stinging his face and burning his open eyes.

It felt wonderful.

He swooped and dived, not confined to the interior of a plane. Here he was safe; he could love, and be loved. He knew he was. It felt amazing. He had never felt anything like it before. He relished the feeling.

If only he knew how quickly it would change.

* * *

Warren followed the old man inside. There they sat down in an office, and Charles began to talk.

"I see you've grown wings." He said it bluntly, and Warren nodded shyly while gazing at the floor. He curled his wings into his back and tried to lean on them while sitting, covering them up.

"It's okay, you don't have to hide them. I'm sure that's extremely uncomfortable." Warren nodded and unfolded his wings a bit, still keeping them behind his back but relieving some of the pressure.

"I'm sure you're wondering how you got them. Well, you're a mutant, Warren, just like us." He gestured to the woman standing in the corner of the room. "We have evolved beyond humanity and have gained something more. Some of us have powers, while others have changed their physical appearance. Like you. You have been gifted with glorious power, but it is your choice how to use it. You can stay here at my school and learn how to use your gift, or you can go back home and live with your father."

There was really no decision to make. "I want to say here," he said immediately. Charles laughed, and his eyes crinkled when he smiled. Warren had the strangest feeling that he had know the man forever, even though they'd just met.

Suddenly Charles's face became serious. "I would love for you to stay here, Warren, but we must get your father's permission."

"No, please don't, he'll never let me!" Suddenly Warren found himself fighting back tears. He didn't want to cry in front of this man, but he couldn't help it. Small tears trickled down his cheek, leaving behind wet, shiny trails.

"There, there." Charles opened his arms and Warren inexplicably found himself leaning into the hug. "You don't know that! Maybe if you ask him very nicely he'll let you." Charles smiled down at Warren, who was still leaning into his hug. Pushing the boy away gently, Charles held his shoulders and looked into Warren's eyes. He sniffed and wiped his cheeks.

"How about I go with you?" Warren nodded. Soon he found himself on the way back to the Worthington building, in a car this time. Charles and the woman - who had introduced herself as Storm - sat next to him. It took them an hour to reach the city, and Warren marveled at how far and how fast he had actually flown before. He must've flown over 50 miles, yet it had felt like a 10 minute flight.

Warren suddenly realized he wasn't wearing a shirt.

"How about this: You fly up to your room and grab one, and then meet us in the lobby, okay?" Warren blinked in surprise before remembering the old man could read his mind. He felt uncomfortable for a second, but then felt glad he could be with other people like him. They parked a block away from the Worthington tower, and Warren shot out the sunroof, hoping his speed would make it hard for people to see him. A few minutes later he was down in the lobby with Charles and Storm, asking the receptionist to request a private meeting with his father. Soon they were heading up the elevator to the top floor, which consisted of his father's private office.

When they got there Warren's father was standing at the door waiting for them.

"Warren," he began, but his tone was… different. He kept glancing sideways at his son, then quickly averting his gaze. "Who are these people?"

Charles rolled forward in his wheelchair and stuck out his hand. "My name is Charles Xavier, and I'd like to talk to you about enrolling your son in my school for gifted youngsters."

Warren's father immediately shook his head. "Absolutely not. My son has a… condition, so he won't be attending school for quite some time. Now, good day." He turned his back, clearly expecting them to leave.

"Your son has an amazing gift," Charles said, almost to himself, as if voicing his thoughts.

Warren's father glared at his son. "You _told_ them?"

Charles answered that question. "No, I found your son. He was about to kill himself by jumping off a thirty story balcony with his wings tied behind his back, and my associate here saved his life. He's different, yes, but that's not a bad thing. I want him to be safe at my school, where he can be with others like him."

Warren Worthington Sr. was, for maybe the first time in his life, rendered speechless. "You… what? Jumping… why… wait, others?"

Charles nodded. "Yes, mutants. People with powers. Like your son. Don't view it as a curse; view it as a gift. I want him to develop his gift at my school. It will certainly be better for him that being locked up in a room thinking suicidal thoughts."

Warren's father was shocked at Charles's bluntness. "He wasn't… what… he wasn't locked up. He was free to go wherever he wanted to."

"That may be so, but where would he go? There aren't many places a winged boy can go in New York City. From what I heard he was doing just fine at his old school. Please, let him come with me."

Charles's upfrontness was shocking to Warren's father. He was used to being treated with respect and not talked back to, so he was a little dazed and maybe not thinking completely straight when he replied with a simple "Okay." Storm clapped and hugged Warren, and he didn't even flinch when her arms clamped around his back and wings. Charles merely smiled. He rolled to the elevator, and nodded at the other two towards the balcony doors. They raced over, Warren yanking off his shirt and belts, Storm flinging open the huge glass doors, and they jumped out the huge building together.


	11. Chapter 11

He heard a scream

Not the scream of a game of tag or a stolen toy. A real scream.

He dove towards the ground, racing towards the noise. All was quiet, but then he heard it again.

He panicked when he realized who it was.

She had taken him in, taught him to love again, and now she was screaming.

He rushed towards her voice, as fast as he could, but he knew in the pit of his stomach it wasn't fast enough. He was too slow.

Why was he always too slow?

He knew this long before the screams cut off.

The silence was even worse.

* * *

They raced towards the school, arriving much faster than the car Charles was in. They did huge loops in the sky, and ducked and weaved between the air drifts. Warren had never felt so… so _alive._ His depressed state of mind was gone, and he laughed joyously along with Storm. When the car pulled up they dove down to meet the old man.

"I see you two have been having fun. But come now; I want to give you a tour of the school." Charles rolled ahead and Warren followed. He wasn't even worried about not wearing a shirt, although he did keep his wings tucked into his back to avoid smashing them against the multiple vases lining the halls.

Charles led him through a beautiful mansion. Everything was made of gleaming wood, and the long halls had large windows full of streaming sunlight. Huge flourishing staircases wound up to the second floor. They passed dorm hallways that had doors lining each wall, and a huge common room with a TV, ping pong table, and large couches. Many students were sitting in there, all having a good time. They ranged from young to old, probably from 5 to 19 or 20. When he followed Charles into the room everyone turned and stared, but it was friendly, and Warren found he wasn't really embarrassed. Many called out greetings, and he waved back. He saw other children with tails, fur, and even one with a few extra limbs. Maybe he really could fit in here after all.

Charles showed him the outside courtyards and sports fields. Again, there were many students playing outside. They all turned to greet him, and he smiled and waved back. They all seemed glad to see him - a sensation he'd never felt before. It was amazing. They went back inside and headed towards the dorm halls. Charles led him to the boys' hall, and they walked past door after door, heading towards the end of the hall. As Warren passed the doors he noticed each one had a different carving. One had a snowflake, another had a ball of fire. He also saw a cat, a TV, a pencil, and one had a simple door etched into the door. Charles knocked on that door, and a teenaged boy stepped out of the room.

"Eddie, we have a new student. Could you help him decorate?" Eddie nodded. Before Warren could react he grabbed him by the shoulders and whipped him around, studying his back. After a moment of contemplation he let go of Warren and stepped over to a door with nothing etched onto it. He placed his finger in the center of the door, and a deep line appeared. It swirled outward, curvy and loopy and beautiful, like a blooming flower stretching its petals to the sun. Warren realized that the lines were taking shape. By the time Eddie pulled his finger off the door a beautiful etching of a pair of wings had appeared on the door.

"Thank you, Eddie." With a nod to Charles he went back into his own room. "Now, Warren, this will be your room. Come along." Stepping through the door Warren saw that it was a small, bare room, with only a bed, a dresser, and a desk. A huge window stretched from near the ceiling to a foot above the floor. Charles rolled over and opened it, letting in a soft breeze. Warren saw the ocean gleaming in the distance.

"Feel free to fly any time you like. Just please stay on the school grounds. I will be back soon with a schedule for you after placing you in appropriate classes. I suggest you go get to know some of the other students. If you have any questions I'll be in my office, and if you get lost just ask one of the other students." Charles turned to leave.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Xavier," Warren called after him. Charles's back was turned, but if he had been facing Warren he would have seen a small smile spreading across the man's face.

"Please, call me Professor X." And with that he left.


	12. Chapter 12

He felt it in his heart. In his bones. She was gone.

He felt a deep sorrow spread throughout his sole.

Why was he flying so damned slow?

He screamed to the seagulls nearby. To the sky, to the clouds, to the air around him. Tears fell from his eyes, claimed by gravity.

Why? _Why_?!

He screamed, and screamed, and screamed.

He was still too damned slow.

* * *

Warren realized he didn't have any shirts. Or shoes. Or pants, for that matter. Well. He had the paints he was wearing, but they didn't really count. He turned to the dresser. Pulling open a drawer, he was surprised to find it was filled with some shirt and pants. Pulling out a pair of jeans he saw that they were just his size. Pulling on a fresh pair, he grabbed a shirt too. It was a bit large, but it allowed his wings to stretch out a little bit. It felt nice.

He was, for whatever reason, feeling braver than normal. He stepped out of his room and walked down the hall towards the common room. He might as well make some friends.

When he got there everyone once again turned to look at him. He was suddenly self conscious, but a group of boys playing cards waved him over, and he gratefully joined them.

Most of the boys looked normal, but one had sharp, gleaming fangs when he opened his mouth to smile. "Hi," the fanged boy said. "I'm Michael, and I can strike like a snake." Warren thought back to the coiled snake carving he had seen on one of the doors. The other boys introduced themselves and their powers. There was Brian, who could teleport, and Charlie, who could increase his body density to become invincible, and Miles, who could throw everyday objects with such accuracy that they could be considered weapons. Apparently he never missed. Warren pared each of them up with a symbol. Brian was the poof of smoke, Charlie was the huge boulder, and Miles was the target board with a dart in the very center.

"So, what can you do?" Charlie asked.

"He seems normal enough to me," added Michael, flashing his fangs.

"I, uhh…" Warren decided it was best to just show them. Pulling off his shirt he stretched out his wings, earning a chorus of ohhs and ahhs from the boys. Michael reached out and stroked the feathers, and Warren realized his nails were claws.

"Can you fly?" Miles asked excitedly. Warren nodded.

"Show us!" They all cheered. So Warren did. He flapped into the air, hovering a few feet above the floor and stirring the boys' hair. He noticed many of the other kids were watching, so he decided to give them a show. The ceiling was fairly high, so he flew up and dove back down, swooping back up again at the last second. He did loop-de-loops and barrel rolls, once again hearing the others marvel at his wings. He was joined by a girl who flew on a force field under her feet, but she was nowhere near as agile as him. Eventually he flew back down to the boys, and they pulled out a deck of cards and started playing spit.

Warren spent the rest of the day hanging out with that group of boys. They showed him around the school, and they all joined in for a baseball game in the park. It was chaotic. Blasts of energy and ice and fire and who-knows-what flew by his face, and kids were all over trying to get the ball. One kid with super speed kept catching the ball until they placed him as the catcher to give the other kids a chance. Warren was in the outfield since it had been a while since he'd played, but he caught all of the pop-flies hit towards him (with a little help from his wings, of course.) The boys introduced him to the other kids, but he had a hard time remembering their names. There was a Jamie, Roland, Peter, Andy, Tommy, Larry, Jack, Steve, Barney, and everything inbetween. He saw so many different powers he couldn't count, but he had recognized a few from the symbols on their doors.

Overall he had a great day. But it was Sunday. So that meant tomorrow class was in session.


	13. Chapter 13

He was right.

By the time he got there she was gone.

But… maybe not entirely. There was still a shred of life.

It was hard to tell with all the blood.

Blood. Blood everywhere. It stained the perfectly clean floors long after they had been wiped clean.

She was shredded. There was no other word for it. Her body was mangled, so badly he simply couldn't look. He had wanted - _promised_ \- to be there for her, and he hadn't.

Her cape lay in shreds on the floor.

* * *

The next morning Warren woke to knocking on his door.

"Warren, it's Professor X, I have your schedule." He sat up slowly and rubbed his drooping eyes. He blundered over to the door and groggily opened it, taking a moment to register the man in a wheelchair who sat outside his door.

"Come, get dressed, you'll be late for school." Warren got dressed quickly and followed the professor down the hall, up a staircase, and around a few corners. He felt like he was in a maze.

"Here we are, mutant history, taught by Professor Wilson. He is capable of traveling back in time to view, but not interfere with, the past, so he's the perfect history teacher. It's like he was there when it all started. Anyways, if you have any questions ask anyone. Your classes and room numbers are on that schedule, and if you need directions just ask anyone. Good luck." And with that he rolled away.

Warren walked into the classroom a few minutes late. Everyone already was seated, so all eyes were on him as he took the only open seat. This seat just happened to be next to Michael, who flashed him a fanged grin. The teacher greeted and introduced him, then continued on with the lesson.

Warren found it relatively easy to find his way around. Most of his classes were with one or more of the boys he had met yesterday, so he was never really alone. Reading was taught by a man who could read a book just by touching the first page, and science by a woman who could shapeshift into any animal species. It was the first time Warren had ever seen a real, live lion (they were learning about African food chains.) Lunch was eaten outside or in the common room, and after that was math.

It took him a little while to realize that his math classroom was on the second floor, so he finally found it after a thorough search of the first floor. So, once again, he was a little late. Everyone turned to stare at him, so he had a clear view of all of the students in the classroom when he entered. One girl in particular immediately caught his eye.

Amara.


	14. Chapter 14

She was okay. Damaged, yes, maybe forever, but _alive._ But just barely. And she was still unconscious.

He kicked himself repeatedly for what had happened, even though he had been nowhere near her at the time of the incident. But still. Love motivates many stupid actions.

He had no idea who - or _what_ \- had done it, or why.

He thought she was loved by all.

Maybe he was wrong.

* * *

Warren could not concentrate through the whole math period. He kept glancing over at her, but she never looked over at him. She didn't look any different, so she must have had powers instead of a physical change. When the class was over she rushed out the door, and he had to fight his way through a crowd of kids to catch up.

"Hey, Amara!" She ducked her head and walked faster. He grabbed her shoulder, but she melted out of his grasp… literally. Her shoulder became liquid and she slipped out of his grasp before it reformed into a normal shoulder shape. She turned to face him.

"I'm here because of you." It started out small, but she seemed to find some braveness and her voice rose. Soon she was nearly screaming at him. "That kiss… it set something off. I became a walking puddle. Literally!" He saw her eyes mist up before she turned and ran away. People starred and acted like they weren't. He stood dazed in the hall as the rest of the students parted around him like a stream around a rock. Eventually Michael grabbed his arm and dragged him along, showing him to his next and last class of the day.

Flight School 101. (It wasn't actually called that, but it sounded pretty cool.) Each student had to take the basic classes, but then they each had a class dedicated specifically to their powers. Since he could fly, he would be taking a flight class.

This time he wasn't late, but he still thought he was the last into the classroom. It was more of a dome than a classroom, with a high, rounded ceiling. There were some rings and obstacles hanging down, staged at all different places throughout the room. There were about five other kids in the class, and they were all relatively around his age. The teacher, he was excited to see, was Storm, even though she was younger than the other teachers.

"Warren, welcome. Just take a seat along the wall; we don't have actual desks in here. We're just waiting on one more student." The last bell rang, and still they waited. Finally a girl around his age with short, bright purple hair rushed in the door. "I'msosorryI'mlatepleasedon'tgivemedetention!" She said it in one breath and Warren struggled to keep up. She plunked herself down right next to him and breathed heavily, catching her breath.

As far as he could tell, none of the other kids had physical altercations that enabled flight, so they all must've had powers that let them do so.

"Alright!" Storm clapped her hands and smiled. "Let's warm up. Ten laps around the room. Let's go!" The students leaped to their feet and jumped into the air. Warren pulled off his shirt and followed them. He recognized the girl from the common room surfing on a force field, and another girl was holding onto a weird energy ring that seemed to enable flight. The girl with the purple hair leaped into the air and, with a flash of light, turned into a huge hawk with bright purple feathers. The bird must've had a wingspan of almost 6 feet. The two other boys were seeming flying without aid from anything else. Maybe their powers were simply flying.

They all turned to look at him with his huge wings beating in the air. He stayed behind the group - he didn't want to hit anyone with his wings - but after a lap or two he grew comfortable in the group setting. He flew a bit faster, barely even straining himself. Soon he was gaining speed, passing by the girl with the energy ring and the girl with the forcefield. They seemed a little awkward in the air, and weren't as agile as the other kids. He made sure to give them plenty of space to not throw them off balance with the stirring air from his wings. Right now the huge hawk was in the lead, and the two boys were flying side by side, lost in friendly conversation. Warren easily passed them as well.

He knew it wasn't a race, but flying with the other kids had unleashed a competitiveness he had never felt before. The purple hawk was half a lap ahead, but he was quickly gaining on her. After two more laps he was even with her, and soon pulled ahead. Now he had plenty of free space. He beat his wings even faster, doing the last three laps far ahead of the rest of the group. He touched down gracefully in front of Storm and sat down along the wall. When the rest of the group was done, Storm started in on a lesson about different wind currents and how to deal with turbulence.


	15. Chapter 15

_Hey sorry this is a really short chapter but I feel like it's too important to add more on to it. So yeah. Enjoy :)_

* * *

He stayed in his room. He didn't feel right going outside, having fun, while she was still hurting. If she was hurting he would hurt. It wasn't fair to her.

A funny thought struck him. Since when did he care about fairness? He guesses since always. He just did. But the world wasn't fair. So why should he be?

Because. She would want him to. So he would.

But that just made him want to hurt for her more.

If only he could take away her pain.

* * *

Warren finally felt like he fit in. He had never felt this feeling anywhere before, and it felt _good._

The other kids accepted him, and he accepted them. They were actually… dare he say it? Friends.

He saw Amara every day, but she always avoided him. He respected that. But it still hurt.

A month had passed, and Warren was enjoying himself. He was excelling in his flying class, and he was used to being a good student in his other classes, so it wasn't hard. He played ball with the other boys, and went for leisurely flights often.

He was outside flying around when he heard the ear-splitting scream. He, of course, rushed towards the sound. He heard the scream again, and again, and again. Suddenly he realized he recognized the voice. His heart beat a hundred times faster than normal, and he flew as fast as he could. But he knew it, deep in his heart, deep in his soul.

Storm was dead.


	16. Chapter 16

_Same thing, this is where the povs almost overlap. And, same thing, it will have a new pov going forth from here. So, yeah. Hope it's not too confusing._

* * *

He was wrong.

She wasn't dead. But so, so close. She was unconscious but breathing. And for that he was grateful. But he still blamed himself. He hadn't got there in time.

She was shredded. And it was all his fault.

Well, not really. But it still felt that way.

The school was on lockdown. Storm was in the infirmary being attended to. All of the students were confined to their rooms. Warren grew restless. He wanted to take away her pain. But he couldn't. So he was going to do the next best thing.

He was going to find her killer.

He wasn't sure how yet. But it had just happened an hour ago… The killer couldn't have gotten far. From the looks of it the killer had claws. As crazy as it sounded, in a school full of super-powered kids, anything could happen. He knew it wasn't guns, because he hadn't heard any. And she had large slashes down her body. He had just gotten a glimpse of her before they had taken her away to a restricted part of the building.

He knew he shouldn't, but he didn't care. They had hurt _Storm._ So now they would pay.

He leaped out the window and flew up above the roof. His enhanced eyesight enabled him to see for miles in any direction, much farther than the human eye could. Scanning the surrounding areas, he looked for anything unusual, like speeding cars or shadowy figures, but he couldn't find anything. But wait… down in those bushes, a mile away…

Warren saw a figure crouched in the leaves. People didn't normally hide in bushes…

He rushed back into the school. Bursting down the hall, he ran to where they were keeping Storm. There were to older mutants guarding the entrance, but Warren slipped past them before he could be stopped.

"Professor!" he yelled, immediately gaining the man's attention. He hurriedly explained about the man hiding in the bushes. The professor called for some of his strongest mutants, and they flocked into the room, each clad in a black suit with the x insignia engraved into the shoulders. "Warren." The professor grabbed his shoulders and looked him in the eye. "Lead them to this man. But stay far away. You can see how dangerous he is. And you are but a child. Do you understand?" Warren nodded, and the professor let go of him. "Then go, go!"

Warren took off through the nearby window, staying low so the team could follow him. When he was about a quarter of a mile away, he motioned to where the man he had seen was hiding. One of the mutants turned invisible and crept up to the spot. Then they heard a blood-curdling scream. The man reappeared as blood poured out of a wound on his chest. It was the same slashes that Storm had.

The rest of the team rushed to the spot, Warren following. They formed a protective barrier around the man, and Warren had an idea. Scooping the man up as gently as he could, Warren told the others he would bring the man to safety, and he quickly flew the man back to safety. Then, against the professor's warnings, he returned to the team. Another man had been hit, with still no visual on the attacker. Warren flew up into the air and quickly pinpointed the man. He was ducking behind a nearby building, circling around to attack the team from the back. He flew down and alerted them to his whereabouts. So when he attacked they were ready.

But they weren't. None of them were expecting what they saw. The man leaped, and as he did, three gleaming claws extending from his knuckles. His eyes were glowing balls of rage and he screamed a rabid cry. Luckily it covered the sound of Warren's own screaming.


	17. Chapter 17

This was it. He was finally joining the team. He was young, yes, but he was ready. And now he could be with the ones he loved. The ones that loved _him._

He accepted his uniform gladly from his teacher, mentor, and, in a way, father. He nodded in acceptance and solemnly placed the jacket over his shirt. It was custom-made, and it fit him perfectly. The rest of the team clapped, and he smiled back. This was his day, and it would go down in history.

He looked at the one person he loved more than he should. If only he could be with her. But he knew he couldn't.

If only, if only…

* * *

The team jumped out of the way, leaving the man soaring towards nothing. Before he could smash face-first into the ground, he ducked and rolled, back on his feet before the rest of the mutants knew what was happening. They once again darted out of the way at the last second, and, once again, the man was quickly back on his feet. He wore a black combat suit and a small facial mask that covered the bottom half of his face. His hair was black and stuck up in little ridges on the sides, but it was flat in the middle. It didn't look glossy like gel had been used. It looked surprisingly… natural.

The team continued to dodge his frequent attacks. They tried to hit him, but he was too fast. They could barely dodge his flashing claws, much less stop to attack. Warren stayed up in the air, supervising the fight but not running away. He wanted to help, but he couldn't do much other than fly away. But he was pretty fast… He swooped down, in front of the clawed man's face, and luckily caught his attention. The man chased after him, and Warren flew just fast enough to not get caught. He stayed low so the man wouldn't give up the chase. This opened the others up to attack him. A telekinetic girl picked up nearby rocks with her mind and flung them at the man. Another shot blasts of blue energy from her hands, and a man with strange glasses stared hard at the man chasing Warren. Turning a knob on the side of the glasses, a beam of red energy shot out of his eyes, striking the man and sending him crashing to the ground. The others came forward, collectively attacking until the clawed man lay still.

When the smoke cleared Warren saw a charred unk of flesh. He turned away, suddenly queasy, but curiosity made him turn back around. As he watched the flesh started to _move._ It expanded and grew, forming the general shape of a body. Then skin began to form, and the blood cleared. Warren watching in horror as the body fixed itself, all of the parts slowly growing back to reveal the man with his suit hanging in tatters around his waist.

The man with the glasses immediately shot another energy beam and knocked the man down. He cursed when the body again started to heal itself. Pressing the comm link in his ear, he radioed the professor. "This guy has a healing factor. I repeat, we are dealing with a mutant here." He nodded at something the professor said, then again shot the man. He told the others to do the same and to not relent. He told them to make sure he did not get back up.

"Hey, kid, can you give me a lift?" Warren nodded and grabbed him under his arms. He was much stronger now from his month of training, and was able to fly him back to the mansion with ease.

When they got back the man - his code name was Cyclops - reported back to the professor. Warren watched the flashes of light as the other mutants continued to attack the man. The professor gave orders to Cyclops, and he asked Warren to fly him back out there. Sure, it wouldn't take him long to run the mile, but Warren could get him there much faster. Warren was surprised to see he was carrying a baseball bat, of all things.

When they got back to the battlefield Cyclops motioned for the rest of the team to cease fire. Warren watched in horror as the mangled body once again began to heal itself. Cyclops waited until the skin on his head had regrown, then lifted the bat and bashed his head over and over.

Warren winced when he heard the skull crack.


	18. Chapter 18

He was needed in the field almost immediately.

Nothing spectacular, just a few minor threats that needed to be dealt with. But it still felt good. To be helping people, by the side of his loved ones.

The only ones that loved him.

And he loved them back with all his heart.

Maybe it sounded cheesy. But he didn't care. It was true. He knew it always would be.

But he wanted to go deeper with her…

* * *

Warren watched in horror as Cyclops literally bashed the man's brains in. When he finished all was silent. Warren listened to the sound of Cyclops' heavy breathing, and watched the man - who certainly should be dead - lay still on the ground. He figured brains took longer to heal than skin. If you could even heal from having your brain smashed in.

"So now what?" the girl who was telekinetic asked.

"We bring him back to the mansion," Cyclops said with an air of authority, seemingly unfazed after just smashing someone's skull. "We restrain him while he's unconscious, and the professor can deal with him from there." Warren went to pick up the man, whose head was distorted and covered with sticky blood.

"No." Cyclops stepped in front of him. "You're too young for this. Jean, levitate him back to the mansion. Kid, head back to your room." He paused, and studied Warren's face as he frowned. After a moment's pause, he spoke again. "And thanks for your help. We couldn't have done it without you."

Warren beamed. He didn't know how true that statement was, but he didn't care. Right now he still had adrenaline pumping through his veins, and he was too excited to care.

But he didn't go back to his room. He followed the group to the elevator and waited for them to go down to the basement before following them. The students knew about this hidden level but were not permitted on it, and he had never seen it before. Everything, the walls, the floor, the ceiling, was blaringly white. The halls were more like tunnels, and looked almost round, like huge tubes. He followed the group, led by the professor, to a large room that was filled with medical equipment. He saw Storm on the other side of the room, sleeping soundly, and wondered if bringing her attacker to the same room while she was unconscious was such a good idea.

Cyclops saw him standing by the door and walked over to him. "You shouldn't be here," he said, but the professor looked over and nodded, and Cyclops backed off. Warren slowly inched closer to the table the team was laying the man on, not wanting to get too close. He watched as they strapped him down with metal clamps that went over his wrists, ankles, and torso. Once they were done silence followed, and all that could be heard was Storm's breathing and bones shifting back into place.

They waited for a few more minutes in silence. The man's head seemed to be in a healthy, normal position, yet still he was unconscious. Warren thought he saw his eyes flicker, and yet he remained still.

Suddenly he shot upwards - or tried to, anyways. His eyes were wide open and when he was the constraints he screamed. It was a deep, wild scream, like that of an animal. Warren wondered if this man was even human.


	19. Chapter 19

He tried to tell her. Not with words, but with his actions. He smiled at her constantly, and sometimes she smiled back. But she didn't _get it._ Well, maybe she did, but she didn't want to. Maybe she didn't want him. He knew she loved him, but did she _love_ love him? Or did she ever really think about that? Maybe she just thought he was trying to be friendly.

He wanted her to want him, but he respected her if she didn't. And he was young, so he didn't want her like that. He just wanted to be with her. His mind was young and pure, but his heart was full of love. So he _wanted_ her.

He was giving himself a headache. And frankly he had lost his train of thought. The complexity of his thoughts that had seemed so simple surprised him, and he was lost. So he lay down to take a nap.

* * *

He watched the man struggle and growl, making no recognizable sounds. It had been an hour and still he fought against the restrains.

"This isn't right," the professor said suddenly. "Any rational man would have given up by now. So either he's mentally insane, or there's another factor working in his head. And given that he was an almost-assassin, we can rule out the first option. I'm going to take a look." He rolled over to the man's head and touched his fingers to his temple. The man jerked his head away, gut the professor grabbed back on and wouldn't let go. He concentrated, and in a few seconds he let go.

"Just as I suspected. His mind is trapped; caged. He is being controlled. Jean, help me break the barrier." The telekinetic woman walked over and placed her hands next to the professor. They both closed their eyes, and suddenly the man stopped struggling. He lay still, blinking rapidly with a confused expression on his face.

"Where… where am I?" His voice was gruff, like it hadn't been used in a while. He looked at the other mutants. "Who… what…"

Charles rolled over to face him. "Do you know who you are? Do you know your name?"

The man looked dazed. "My name… my name isn't important. Who… are you?"

"My name is Charles Xavier. Do you know what a mutant is?"

"A mutant… yeah, I'ma… I'ma mutant. I gotta, gotta…" He trailed off.

"Got what?" The professor looked at him calmly.

"A healing… I can heal. A healing factor. And… and these." There was a sound like swords being unsheathed as the three metal claws slid out of his fists. Warren jumped back before realizing his wrists were still restrained.

"Very nice," the professor said nonchalantly. "Do you know what you were doing before? Do you recognize her?" He pointed over to Storm, and the man rolled his head over to look at her.

"No… wait, yeah. She… I hurt her." He said it shamefully, and looked at her almost longingly before rolling his head back around.

"If we're going to help you, I need you to tell me your name."

"No… it's not… not important…" He closed his eyes.

Then, so quietly Warren almost couldn't hear, "Logan."

"What?" The professor leaned in closer.

"My name… it's Logan. But… but they, they called… called me the, the… the Wolverine."

Silence followed. And then: "Can I have a beer?"

Cyclops barked laughed before covering his mouth, embarrassed. The professor smiled. "I've been scanning your brain, and you aren't lying. I can tell you don't have any more knowledge on where you came from or who you worked for. So I'm going to let you up now, okay? But if you try to attack we will stop you." He mumbled a gruff okay, and the professor slowly unlatched the restraints. The man - Logan - sat up slowly. The other mutants formed a protective barrier between him and Storm, but he didn't move to attack. He just looked… tired.

He saw Warren, and his wings stretching out in the air behind him. He hadn't noticed he'd stretched them out. Logan squinted at him, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"Wings, huh?" He was silent for a moment, and Warren wanted to curl up to avoid his gaze. "Pretty cool." Warren smiled, then darted out of the room and back upstairs.


	20. Chapter 20

_Just got my first review! So great to see that someone actually read my story. If you've read this far that means it's actually not that bad. Thanks so much for reading this and I really hope you like it! :)_

* * *

He saved her. She was in danger, so he saved her. Simple, really. The others had tried to, but he wouldn't let them. It had to be him. She had to know how much he loved her.

So he saved her, and she was grateful, but not _too_ grateful. Not grateful enough.

He was upset she didn't care. Well, she did, but not enough. Not enough about him.

Maybe it was because he hadn't saved her before. He had tried, but she didn't know that. In her eyes, he failed.

Or maybe it was because he was just a child. Yeah, that was probably it.

* * *

Logan was invited to stay. Against many suggestions not to, the professor gave him his own room. Surprisingly, he was given a room in the boys' hallway. Of course, it had to be the one next to Warren's room.

His door was decorated with three simple slashes. They had been made by his own claws, and not Eddie the woodcarver.

Warren could not figure out why the professor trusted this guy. He had nightmares about him murdering children in the night. But really he was kind of lazy. He slept most of the day, and only came out to eat. He grumbled often, but didn't cause any trouble.

Finally the professor went in there and yelled at him. (Well, he didn't yell, really. It was more of a stern talking to.) He told Logan to get off his lazy bum and teach a class. Of course, since Storm was still out, he ended up teaching the flying class. Why, Warren had no idea.

"Okay, uh, yeah. Hi. My name is Logan, so uh, yeah. I guess you can all fly. So go do your thing. Just, uh, do a few laps and don't hurt each other." The students obeyed, quietly snickering to each other. While they were flying they watched Logan sit down against the wall and pull out a cigar. "Hey, can anyone light this for me? No? Alright, fine…" He grumbled to himself and put the cigar to his lips anyway.

Weeks passed quietly. Storm regained consciousness, but she still was kept in the downstairs medical room. Logan continued to fill in as teacher for her, although the classes consisted mainly of his telling the students to do whatever they want. Slowly Warren's birthday crept up, and it startled him to realize he was turning thirteen. With the development of his wings he had completely missed his 12th birthday. His father didn't send a letter, much less a gift. He had probably forgotten about his mutant son. Warren tried to tell himself that he was fine, that he had all the love he needed right here. But it still hurt.

Another year passed quietly. Storm healed, and went back to teaching the flying class. She was back to normal, except for the jagged scar that ran down her neck all the way to her hips. (Not that he had even seen her hips, just that her clothes had been torn all the way down to the hip when she'd been attacked.) Logan had stayed. The professor often caught him smoking a cigar or drinking on school grounds, but he was never kicked out. He did, however, argue with Cyclops - a.k.a. Scott Summers - every day. Their motives for hating each other were beyond Warren's level of understanding, but had he payed more attention he may have realized it was about love, like many stupid things were. Amara continued to ignore him.

He was fourteen now, and slowly working his way through the rigorous classes the professor had placed him in. He was a year or two ahead in most of his classes, and was looking at graduating early. The professor had assured him, however, that he was welcome to stay.

Then, one day, he was asked to come to the large common room. He was surprised to find all of the other students already gathered there, and most of the teachers as well. Even Logan had combed his hair and stood at attention. The team of the strongest mutants in the school had gathered at the front of the room, and they were all in their black uniforms with the x's etched into the shoulders. Storm was there, along with Cyclops, the telekinetic woman they called Jean, an older boy who called himself the Iceman, and a girl with brown and white hair that he had only seen a few times. Warren was surprised to see that Logan was also wearing a black uniform.

The professor was there in his wheelchair as well. He rolled forward and beckoned Warren to the front of the room.

"Warren, today is a big day for you. I have decided that your time has come. Today, I invite you to join the X-Men." He smiled, and Warren smiled back.

He thought this day would never come.


	21. Chapter 21

He did it again. And again. And again. Whenever she was in danger he was always the one there to save her. She called him her guardian angel. But did she really mean it?

She was almost 10 years older than him. Maybe she viewed him as a kid. Maybe she was only looking out for him, like a big sister. Maybe she didn't like him at all.

Maybe maybe maybe. It made his head swim. Why couldn't anything in life just be straightforward? He wanted to clear his muddled brain. Maybe he could.

Again with the maybe.

* * *

He was handed a black uniform to the sound of applause. Many looked on with pride, and some with jealousy. Others seemed like they could care less. Like Amara. He saw her sitting listlessly in the back, not clapping. It hurt to see that she didn't care, but not as much as it normally would. He had someone to fill that void now.

"Warren Worthington, I present this uniform to you as the newest X-Man. You will be the defender of both humans and mutants, and will fight to make the world a better place for all. I know you will do well." Professor X smiled at him, and Warren smiled back. The other X-Men came and shook his hand. When Cyclops came up to him, he leaned in and whispered in Warren's ear. "I still think you're too young. Prove me wrong."

So Warren set out to do so. They put him through multiple training classes, teaching him how to deal with different situations while causing the least amount of damage. He learned how to maximise his ability so save as many people as he could, and how to deal with emergencies. They also taught him hand-to-hand combat, although they said he would probably never use it. He was there for extraction and surveillance, while more physical members like Logan or Cyclops would be the ones in battle. But it was still amazing.

He was needed almost immediately. He and Storm, being the flying members of the team, were supposed to watch and wait for a certain man that was selling illegal weapons. Storm brought some fog for cover, and they hovered in the air, waiting. Eventually he came, and they alerted the others, but the man must've heard them. He pulled a gun from inside his jacket and aimed it at the sky, firing a blazing blue energy beam. He shoved Storm out of the way, and it barely missed her. But that time the Wolverine had moved in and taken the man down. She was grateful, of course, but she wasn't overly affectionate.

Warren found himself disappointed. He had overly strong feelings for Storm, even though he was so young. And he knew that he shouldn't, but he did anyways. He wanted her to understand how he felt. But she didn't, not really.

So he saved her again. And again. And again. On every mission he found a way to save her life. Maybe he was being overly dramatic. But she didn't seem to mind.

On one particular mission they were investigating a rogue mutant supposedly calling himself the Nightcrawler. The professor had tracked him with his telepathic powers to a nearby church, so he sent the team out to meet him. When they got to the church it was abandoned. But the Wolverine had picked up his scent, so they waited.

Hours passed, and still nothing. Warren randomly rustled his wings, and then heard an echo of the rustling feathers. No, wait, not an echo…

Before he could say anything a figure dropped from above. It let out a wild scream, heading straight towards Storm. She had no time to react as the figure was barreled out of the way in a flurry of feathers. Warren grabbed the figure's waist and pulled him out of the air, pinning him to the ground. But then all of the sudden it was gone, and Warren was left on top of nothing. The thing was gone, and a dazed Warren stood up shakily.

Storm walked over to him. "Thanks," she whispered, sending shivers down his spine. "You're like my guardian angel."


	22. Chapter 22

He wanted to ask her why, but he didn't have the courage. Why she didn't love him. And she did, but not the way he wanted. It infuriated him. And scared him. He knew he shouldn't be feeling like this, but he did anyways. He didn't want to stop.

He was young and stupid, and she knew that. So she didn't want to grow too close to him. And he knew that. It was incredible how much they could converse without speaking a single word. And yet he wondered how she felt. He amazed himself how much he didn't know, but at the same time he did.

He knew, deep in his heart, that he was too young. That she didn't want to. But he had been wrong before. He consoled himself with that pathetic excuse, even though he knew it wasn't true. But he was young. So he ignored his head and listened to his heart.

* * *

He felt stupid for not realizing it before. All of the others had code names, so why couldn't he? He hadn't wanted a name that sounded stupid, but the perfect one had been right in front of his face the whole time.

 _Angel._ Maybe it did sound a bit too religious. But if fit. The Worthingtons had never been church-goers, but Warren had always wondered if there was more. His wings felt like a gift from heaven, so maybe he could be one as well.

He didn't know how to tell the team. It seemed unimportant, and it would hardly come in handy. But it turned out he didn't have to worry about that. Whenever he saved someone - he was doing a lot of that lately - he told them just to call him Angel. And they did. Soon he was all over the news, debating whether he was an actual angel. The kids he had saved back at his old school, years ago, were being interviewed about their experience. Soon the others caught on, and eventually they just called him Angel. Except for Cyclops. He continued to call him Warren. It bugged him, but not that much, since it felt kind of nice to be called by his name.

Time trudged on. Another year passed, bringing Warren up to the (in his mind) mature age of 15. He continued to chase after Storm, and she continued to elude him.

One day when they returned to the mansion the professor met them with a grave look. "Warren," he said quietly. "Come with me."

The others looked after him pitifully as he followed the professor. He was scared of his quiet tone, and desperately wished Storm had followed. Then he scolded himself for wanting (okay, needing) her support. If he loved her he should be the strong one, and not the baby brother.

The professor brought him to his private office, where he motioned for him to sit. Warren stood. The professor sighed, then started to speak.

"I might as well tell you straight. Your father called. He wants you to call him back."

On second thought, Warren did sit down. "What? Why?"

The professor shrugged. "He didn't say. He only said it was urgent. You can use the phone in here. I'll give you some privacy." He rolled out of the room and clicked the door shut behind him. Warren sat there, staring at the suddenly evil phone. He had the sudden urge to smash it against a wall, and he almost did. Unconsciously he curled his wings around himself and pulled his legs up to his chest. His father hadn't contacted him in over two years, so why now? Warren has assumed his father had simply forgotten about him.

He wasn't sure why he was having an almost-panic attack, but he sure as heck didn't want to call his father. He was sure it was probably something like he had scheduled an operation to remove Warren's wings. The thought terrified him.

But it was something much, much worse.


	23. Chapter 23

_Ok so the povs overlapped a little bit back there but I didn't want to reveal the "much much worse" thing. I know I should have at least not made everything seem hunky-dory in the excerpts at the beginning but I really didn't want to give it away. I'm sure a lot of you probably know what it is or can at least guess, but yeah. So. Thanks for reading this I hope you like it. :) I hope I'm not dragging out events and I hope it's not too slow or boring. And I know the Angel / Storm love may seem kinda off because he is so much younger than her but I wanted them to have a close relationship like in the "Wolverine and the X-Men" show. Anyways, enjoy!_

* * *

"Warren? Warren?" He listened to his father's desperate and excited voice on the phone. After a while he had picked it up and dialed, but he wasn't ready to say anything yet. He was still curled up defensively in the overly stuffed chair that was supposed to be comfortable but now felt hard. His wings were stifled against the back of the chair as they pricked in anger, fear, and who knew what else. He listened to his father call his name through the phone a few more times. Finally his father said he was going to hang up, so he managed a meager "Hi."

"Ah, Warren! I'm so glad I got a hold of you." Not how have you been, or I missed you so much. He was a businessman, even with his own son. "I have exciting news. I wanted to tell you first. I have found… Are you ready?" His father was so excited, like a kid in a candy store full of free samples. He hugged his wings, dreading what came next.

The next two words dropped like a bomb. "A _cure._ " He said it so proudly, it seemed like he was announcing another son. Warren felt replaced. He listened to the rest absently, his brain not quite processing what had just been said but understanding it all the same. "A cure for mutants! Isn't it amazing? You can go back to being normal! The _world_ can go back to normal! Just one little shot is all it takes and you're cured! I've already perfected a vaccination and a procedure for mutants. And I want you to help me announce it to the world! You can be the first one to be cured!"

Something came over him that he was both terrified and amazed by. "I do not have a disease!" He screamed into the phone, and he heard his father instantly fall silent. "I don't want to be cured! Mutants don't _need_ to be cured! It's not a disease! Why…" His voice cracked and his rage left him. "Why can't you love me the way I am?"

"Warren…?" But Warren had already hung up.

He started to cry. He curled into an even tighter ball, then realized he had to tell the professor. He ran out of the room, tears still streaming down his face. He nearly barreled into the professor, who, he realized, must've been mentally listening to the whole conversation.

"Warren," he said gently, grabbing the boy's wrist. "Let's talk."

So they did. Warren retold the whole conversation, even though he knew the professor already knew. He sobbed silently through most of it. When he was done he took a deep breath and used his wings to wipe his face.

"We have a grave problem here." The professor wasted no time getting down to business. "If word of this gets out all of mutantkind could be threatened. Warren, you have to go to your father and convince him not to release this." Suddenly he closed his eyes and grimaced. "No…" he mumbled to himself. Then he opened his eyes. "It is too late. He has already told the world. It's all over the news."

As if on cue, Cyclops burst into the room. "Sorry to interrupt, sir, but we have a situation. They found a cure… I'm sure you already know. When Logan saw it he went on a rampage and shredded most of the TVs, but not before many of the students saw it." Then Rogue barged in, followed by a pleading Storm. Jean walked in shortly after.

"Is it true?" she demanded. "Can they really cure us?"

"We don't have a disease!" Cyclops cried. "We don't need to be cured!"

Of course, it wouldn't be a party without Logan.

"I… uh, _decommissioned_ the TVs, but the students are in an uproar. Most heard, and those who didn't heard from friends. They're starting to take sides. Iceman is leading the 'mutant pride' team, and some other, younger kids are seriously considering the cure."

"We don't need a cure!" Cyclops cried desperately. Warren was surprised. Cyclops couldn't open his eyes without destroying something, and he still loved the way he was.

"Everyone, settle down!" Warren had never heard the professor yell. It seriously scared him. Everyone was silent at once.

"I don't agree with the cure any more than you do," the professor said, gesturing at Cyclops. "But all of my students are here on their own free will. And they can leave on their own free will. I'm sure many will want to stay, but those who want the cure may have it. We will let them decide." Cyclops opened his mouth to protest, but the professor silenced him with a death stare. Rogue was surprised she had won so easily, and Storm looked on in almost-horror. Jean, amazingly, remained calm. The professor turned towards Warren.

"We've heard from all of our X-Men but you. What do you think?"

The scary thing was he didn't know what to think.


	24. Chapter 24

_Okay, again I'll just be completely honest, I'm not sure where to take this. I want to wrap up the story soon and I don't want to go much farther into the future. So maybe I'll do a different pov… (As you probably know by now it's always be Warren.) Hope that didn't give it away for anyone… This is why you don't read the last chapter first! Anyway now I'm rambling on so I'll stop… Yeah ok now it's going to be a new pov. Also just wanted to give a shoutout of thanks for the people who reviewed my story I am so grateful for the support and feedback. Feel free to review even if you hated it so that way I can improve later on._

* * *

All eyes were on him. He was silent, thinking. He hated his father and he loved his wings, and sure as heck didn't want to get rid of them. But maybe a cure wasn't a bad thing, like for the people who didn't want to be different. He realized they were all still staring at him expectantly.

"Well…" he began, tentative. "I sure don't want to get rid of my wings. But, but… well, maybe, it isn't so bad. Like, for people who don't want to be different. I struggled with that a lot at first. So I don't know." He curled back up as the room burst into chaos around him, everyone arguing, no one listening.

He listened to their arguments with his head down. Eventually he felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked up to the smiling face of Storm. Looking around, he saw Cyclops gesturing wildly at the professor, and Rogue was yelling at Logan, carefully keeping her hands wrapped around her waist. Jean watched silently from a corner, her face unusually emotionless. Everyone jumped when Logan slid out his claws and slammed a hole in the wall.

"Enough!" The professor yelled. Everyone immediately went silent. "We have accomplished nothing but destroying my office." He glared at Logan. "I have already explained to you what we are going to do. Go gather the students in the common room; I'll meet you there shortly."

The X-Men dispersed, Warren lingering a bit longer before summoning up enough courage to go to the common room. As he stood he realized the full severity of the situation. His father had created the cure, so by extension he was responsible. Warren suddenly had trouble breathing. _He_ was the one responsible for possibly eliminating the entire mutant race.

He tried to get that terrifying thought out of his head, but it stuck. Squaring his shoulders he went to the common room, and sat near the front with the other X-Men. He curled in his wings, trying to be comforted by them without looking too babyish. The students were rowdy and chaotic, yelling at each other and stomping all over the room. They were separated, he realized with a start. There was a line dividing two groups, one with a yelling Iceman at the lead (who was supposed to be up at the front with the other X-Men) the other with some quieter kids who were slowly gaining the courage to yell louder. Warren realized the group with the pro-cure mutants had a lot more physically altered kids, kids who probably wanted nothing more than to look normal. He only saw a few physically altered kids siding with Iceman.

The professor tried to quell them. "Everyone, settle down!" But even his yelling - which was enough to startle Warren - had no effect. He tried to no avail for a few more minutes.

Suddenly Logan stood up. Screaming wildly, he stabbed his fist into a nearby wall, shattering it. The students immediately fell silent as he turned his raging look on them. "Shut up!" he yelled, but by then everyone had already quieted down.

The professor looked at the wall, then glared at Logan. " _Thank you,_ Logan. Now sit down." He turned to address the students. "As you all know a cure for mutants has been found. It suppresses the mutated x gene, either preventing an individual from mutating or returning a mutant back to their human state. Now, I am aware some of you want this cure. And for those of you who do, you are welcome to have it." The kids blinked in surprise. Iceman let out a shocked cry and called out.

"But, Professor! We should be proud of ourselves, not cowards!"

"Bobby!" The professor scared everyone even more by addressing one of his X-Men by their real name, especially in front of the crowd. "You may be happy about your powers, but what about the others? What about mutants like Rogue? She cannot touch anyone! Don't you think she'd want a chance at having that again?" Iceman looked at Rogue desperately, searchingly, but she hung her head. He hung his too.

"Now, if you want the cure you can have it. I will not stop you. But know that you will never, ever be able to get this back. I will take a party out tomorrow to receive the cure. All of you must think long and hard on this. If you absolutely want to give this up, pack your bags and prepare for tomorrow. You will be returning to your families afterwards. You will no longer have a place here." Several of the children hung their heads, and even Iceman was shamefully looking at the floor. Slowly the students started to trickle out, starting with the pro-cure kids. He watched sadly as everyone left, including the other X-Men, until he was left alone in the huge common room. Only then did he curl his wings around himself and cry.


	25. Chapter 25

She knew he loved her. And she loved him back, but not in that way.

And now this. The cure. Totally ruining anything that could have been.

She didn't blame him. Of course not. But, well. He _was_ the one who had motivated his father to create it, so…

No. _No._ Being a mutant wasn't his fault. What his father did wasn't his fault. He was so young, and just as devastated by this as she was. She couldn't blame him. Not even a tiny bit.

But, God, why did he have to always complicate things?

* * *

 _Okay, so there's the new pov. Hope it's not too confusing. Again, you can probably guess who it is right away. But yeah. Thanks for reading this far and for Defender of the Dogma and Buttercream16's support. Couldn't have gotten this far without them. Also check out Buttercream16's story "The Origin of Grey." Looks super good and she mentioned my story so I'm just returning the favor. Finally to answer Smoresgirl's questions yes this story is based off of the comics and the movies (and some of the X-Men shows as well) but again this is how I wished his story went so a lot of the major events are different. And no, I do not plan to include Jean's alternate personality. In this story she is still young so the Phoenix force hasn't really manifested yet. Thanks so much for the reviews and support! Enjoy :)_

* * *

The next morning the professor took a bus, packed with the X-Men who couldn't fly (Warren and Storm decided to fly there) and about 20 other kids. Many who had been pro-cure were indecisive. They weren't quite ready to give it up just yet. Of course, none of the X-Men were getting the cure (except for Rogue,) but they went along just for protection and support.

The cure had been made available literally overnight. It wasn't available at local drugstores yet, but many hospitals offered it to the public. Of course, the line stretched out for almost a mile. People were scared, and they wanted it immediately. But the professor had made a special appointment, so they were welcomed right away. Warren took off his jacket and tucked his wings inside of it before going inside.

The kids were scared, but the doctors were worse. They were terrified of the mutated kids, many of which had tails, fangs, or other nonhuman additions. Warren was relieved to see that Michael, his snake-like friend from his first day, was not among them. The doctors were extremely cautious, even though most of the kids were ten or younger. They all lined up in a white room filled with doctors and needles, and rolled up their sleeves to reveal exposed arms.

The first child stepped up and held out his arm. A doctor produced a small needle, and Warren wondered at the small amount of seemingly harmless fluid it took to 'cure' a mutant. The boy was green and scaly, resembling a lizard. He looked surprisingly calm as the needle was slid under his skin. The needle was pressed in, and Warren watched in horror as a ring around the needle faded back into normal, pink skin. The ring expanded, softening the boy's arm, and Warren watched as claws retreated, scales dissolved, and hair grew from the once scaly bald head. Warren blinked, and the boy transformed from a humanoid lizard into a normal kid.

He watched, nauseated, as child after child transformed from something unique to a normal person. Only 3 of the 20 kids had no obvious physical alterations, and one of them was Amara. He almost cried when she received the cure. She seemed relieved, almost excited, and she seemed like this was everything she'd wanted. Warren felt the loss for her.

Last to go was Rogue. Logan looked on sadly as she stepped forward. Iceman had refused to come, even though he was an X-Man, and he knew it hurt Rogue for him not to be there. Warren knew they were good friends, maybe something more, and yet he wasn't there for her. Warren understood how that felt.

The ride home - well, for some of them - was long and quiet. The bus was full of normal kids. Many stroked their hair or touched their skin amazedly. Most of the kids were being picked up at the school, but some had to be dropped off at their homes. Storm and Warren flew above the bus silently, the heaviness of the day weighing them down.

When they got back to the school a profession of parents was waiting. Warren stayed up high so as not to be seen, but his enhanced eyesight allowed him to see what was going on. Most of the fathers looked strict and emotionless, but a lot of the mothers burst into tears when they saw their kids get off the bus. Families quickly reunited, but Warren noticed Amara went alone to a black car. She stepped in wordlessly and was driven away. He would miss her, but he had a family here now, and she was no longer a part of it.


	26. Chapter 26

She tried to comfort him. But she didn't know what to say. She had no idea what he was going through. The only thing she could think of was letting down her barriers and loving a little, but she knew she couldn't. He was too young. That would always separate them.

She knew so much about him, even without getting too close. She knew he looked up to her, and that he blamed himself for when she was attacked. She knew he felt responsible for his father's actions. But she didn't know what to do.

Well, she did. But she couldn't.

So. That left her in a real pickle.

She hated pickles.

* * *

To his surprise, life went on. The students stopped their mini civil war. Classes continued, and it seemed like nothing had happened. No other students left after that day. Most of them who had been considering the cure had decided to stay. The cure was available to anyone who wanted it, but for now other mutants were left in peace.

His father never contacted him after that. Warren surprised himself by admitting he hated his father. He hadn't known he did, but when he was flying alone, he was completely honest with himself, and the thought just popped up. He hadn't thought that possible, but it was true. He really hated his father.

He felt relief. He hadn't realized he had been holding in his feelings. So it was nice to let them go.

He was breathing a sigh when Storm flew up beside him.

"Hey, Angel!" She called out and flew up beside him. He smiled at his codename. "Hey, the professor wants to see us in his office. So come on down!" He smiled mischievously and clamped his wings against his body, instantly plummeting towards the ground.

She laughed and followed, but he was much faster. A few feet before going splat after falling from almost a hundred feet in the air, he flared his wings and gracefully swooped towards the mansion, gliding in an open door. Storm was not far behind.

They were the last two to get there. The other X-Men were gathered already, all standing somberly along the wall. A strange man was sitting next to the professor. He wore a dark purple cape and a strange, smooth metal helmet that made his head look a bit like a rounded baton top. He was trying hard to look nonchalant, but Warren could see fear in his eyes. Logan sniffed a few times and Warren knew that he could smell the fear as well.

"We have a huge problem." The professor didn't even start with introductions. "They have weaponized the cure." Warren blinked, dazed, as he tried to grasp what the man had just said. Weaponized? The cure? The professor droned on but Warren wasn't listening. His mind was working so slow, he had no idea what was going on. Then, all of the sudden, it clicked, and his mind filled with panicked thoughts. Weaponized? That meant they could 'cure' any mutant on the spot. If they thought a mutant dangerous, they could instantly neutralize the threat. How could he have let this get so out of control?

Warren listened but not really to the strange man talking about a shapeshifter who had saved him from being hit with the cure. But she was cured, so she was no longer a mutant. This scared Warren, but it didn't really register in his mind.

Suddenly he knew what he had to do. He leaped up and ran over to a window, throwing it open and jumping out. He heard panicked shouts telling him to come back, but he ignored them. He shot towards the city, flying faster than he ever had before. In a few minutes the towering skyscrapers shot into view. He angled towards the one he had grew up in, that was once his home, but now felt so foreign.

Not bothering to slow down, he smashed through the window of one of the top floors, knowing that's where the labs were. He watched scientists duck and run for cover as shattered glass sprayed everywhere. Not even taking the time for a heroic stance, he rushed over to an elevator and quickly rode up to his father's office, bursting through the doors with amazing force.

His father quickly stood and turned to face him. His face flashed from happy to see his some to deathly afraid at one look at his son's face. Warren flew over and pinned his father against the wall.

"Weaponizing the cure?!" he screamed, watching his father's eyes open wide in horror. "How could you? Oh, well, now you can _fix_ me without having to tie me down! Just a quick little trigger pull and all is well!" He unconsciously smashed his wings into the wall next to his father, leaving two crumbing indents. His father started squirming, trying to get away, but Warren held fast. He grabbed his father by the throat and held him off his feet.

"Undo this mess," he said, deathly quiet. This was even more terrifying than his screaming. "Fix what you've done, or I will kill you right now."

"Warren!" The familiar voice was desperate, yet calm. He knew who it was without having to turn his head. "Angel. Put him down before you do something you'll regret."


	27. Chapter 27

She could understand his pain. She could see his conflict without even looking into his eyes. She knew that if she did they would be swirling with emotion. She knew that she had to calm him down. The torrent of emotions was making him do something that would make him hate himself for the rest of his life.

It scared her, how much she knew about him. How deep their connection went. She was afraid she was letting down her barriers. She was allowing herself to get to close. She had to distance herself.

But she cared for him, too. And she didn't want him to make the biggest mistake of his life.

* * *

Warren turned and stared at the woman who had called out to him. Storm. She stood calmly by the door. She didn't want him to kill his father. But she wasn't going to stop him, either.

He softened his grip. He couldn't kill his father. Especially not in front of her. But he had to stop him from producing the cure. He couldn't let his father attack the ones he loved.

But his hesitation opened up an opportunity for his father. Storm saw it too, but before she could cry out his father had whipped him around, pinning him against the wall. Storm rushed over. But she was too slow. It was so eerily similar to when Logan had attacked her, only this time the rolls were reversed. Warren watched in slow motion as his father pulled out a gun, pointed it a his son, and pulled the trigger. A small dart shot out and pricked Warren in the stomach. He hardly felt it, but a wave of pain quickly washed over him and left him rolling on the floor. His father stepped away with an evil grin as he watched his son writhe in pain. Storm came from behind and knocked the gun - now empty - away from him before kneeling next to Warren.

Warren felt like his back was on fire. It felt like it was burning, and searing waves of heat rolled all along his back. He was partially aware of Storm kneeling next to him, but he was in too much pain to care. Tears squeezed out of his eyes as his back muscles spazzed, and then suddenly the pain was gone.

He felt lighter. But heavier at the same time. He felt unbalanced, and when he stood up he nearly fell forwards. He felt front heavy, and almost tripped over his own feet. Storm caught him, and when he looked at her he could see tears streaming down her face.

"My son," his father came over, also crying.

Storm surprised him by screaming at his father. "Get away from him!" She held out her hand, and a small bolt of lightning hit his father in the chest, knocking him backwards.

He still couldn't figure out what was wrong. Everything _felt_ wrong. But he couldn't pinpoint the problem.

Storm hugged him, clamping her arms all the way around her back. And then it hit him. She had never hugged him full-on like that. She had never been able to. Something had always been in the way…

And then he realized what was wrong. _His wings._ He turned his head frantically, trying to get a glimpse of them, but he couldn't. Where were they? He broke away from Storm and tried twisting around. He sent out mental commands for them to stretch out, but his thoughts hit nothing. They weren't there. They _weren't there._ Only then did he collapse on the ground and cry.

* * *

 _Okay, so I know that's not how the story actually goes, but this is my story and I wanted it to go this way. I hate his wings being broken or injured and the Archangel just makes me really sad, so I decided to do it this way. I hope you don't hate me for it but I'd rather him lose his wings altogether than become the Archangel. So he will not be doing that. So again, sorry if you hate me for this but this is how I want the story to go. :/_


	28. Chapter 28

He had lost his wings. And to him, that was probably worse than losing his life.

She didn't know what to do. She wanted to comfort him, but she didn't know how. She didn't even think she could.

She thought about how it would feel if she lost her powers. She couldn't even imagine the horror.

* * *

Storm gently wrapped her arms around him. He didn't feel it. He was too lost in his own grief and pain. Normally he would have been ecstatic at her loving touch. But he didn't know if he could love anymore. He didn't know if he could _live_ anymore.

He didn't know what to do. So he just sat there crying. Eventually Storm got up, but she didn't leave. She called the others and told them what happened. Normally he would feel embarrassed at their pity, but right know he wasn't feeling anything. He had forgotten how to feel.

Soon they all came. But they kept their distance. No one wanted to get too close. No one knew what to do. Eventually, when the tears had almost stopped and he was sniffling uncontrollably, he watched a pair of feet and wheels roll into view. He looked up into the professor's loving gaze.

"Warren." He said it softly, almost a whisper. "I can't pretend to know what you're feeling right now. But come with me. Come home."

"No." Warren said it finally, like the decision was already made. He didn't explain further.

After a few moments the professor asked softly, "Why?"

"Because I don't belong there anymore." It was horrible saying the truth out loud, but in a way it brought relief. He felt loose, like restrains had been undone. This reminded him of back when he wore belts to keep his wings tucked in. He laughed out loud. The professor looked at him inquisitively but didn't question him about it.

He continued, louder this time. The others started to listen. "I don't belong with you now. I'm not a mutant anymore. But I guess it's okay. I can live a normal life now." His voice cracked at the end, and more tears filled his eyes. He looked around at each of the other X-Men in turn. Jean, of course, looked calm, but he thought he saw a glint of emotion hiding behind her eyes. Logan looked unusually somber. The Iceman turned away when Warren met his gaze. Cyclops held his gaze. Although Warren couldn't see his eyes, he received a subtle nod of approval. And Storm. She was openly crying. He smiled weakly, but the tears streaming down his face ruined the effect.

"I'm going to stay here. And I'm going to put my father in check. I'll try to stop the cure." The professor smiled at him, and Warren smiled back. He looked at his father, passed out on the floor, and silently vowed to set him straight.

And then Logan broke the comfortable silence. "Uh, hate to interrupt your inspirational speech there-" Storm glared at him and he shrugged. "-but, uh, Professor, we gotta go. There's a situation back at the mansion."

The professor looked at Warren. "Are you sure you don't want to come with us?" Warren nodded. He knew in his heart that this was the right thing to do.

Storm walked up to him, still crying. "I'm going to miss you." She smiled through her tears. "You'll always be my guardian angel." And with that she flew away.


	29. Epilogue

_Okay, so there's no excerpt thing for this chapter because it's the ending / epilogue. So yeah. Hope you enjoy it. :)_

* * *

Warren was amazed. His wings had grown back. He had no idea how, but they had.

They started out small, like the first time. Little baby wings. It took a week before they were large enough to carry him.

And then suddenly he could fly again. Warren spent a full day in the clouds. His back ached and his stomach rumbled, but he stayed in the air long after the sun set. He went shirtless, like back when his wings had first grown, and he relished the feel of the cool night air against his bare skin. He felt the goosebumps along his arms and a numbness in the tips of his fingers. But the best part was the feel of the air through his feathers. He hadn't felt this in three years, and he had finally realized how much he had lost.

He decided to go visit his father. Although the cottage was almost a hundred miles away, he arrived in ten minutes. Still shirtless, he flew with the seagulls for a while before crashing down in the sand. He lay there for a moment, crushing his wings under his body. It hurt, but he smiled anyways. It had been so long since he had wings to crush.

This reminded him of when his wings had first grown and he had had trouble sleeping. He would fall asleep on his stomach, but inevitably roll over in the middle of the night. This would crush his wings under him, and often times they would be bent in a really uncomfortable position. So he would wake up and roll back over, losing about half an hour of sleep in the process. Warren smiled. He would love to do that every night if it meant having his wings back.

After a while he stood up and flew over to the cottage. He had landed in the sand only 20 feet away, but it felt much better to fly over. He was about to knock on the door when he realized it was almost 10 at night. But he knocked anyway. His father had to know what had happened.

When he didn't answer the door, Warren tried turning the knob. To his surprise it was unlocked. He walked inside, and found his father sitting on a couch in the living room, fast asleep. But he jolted awake at the sound of Warren's bare feet creaking against the wooden floors.

It took him a minute to blink himself awake. Then he saw Warren, with his wings stretched out behind him. Warren smiled as his father gaped at him.

"Warren, is that you?" He sounded bleary, almost drunk. "But… I thought I had _cured_ you…" The smile instantly faded from Warren's face. He cursed himself. Why had he thought his father would support him in this? He never had, and he never would. Wordlessly, with his father calling after him, he flew out the door.

But he was too excited to be really mad. He did some huge loop-de-loops in the air, then swiveled towards the direction he knew his destination was. He rocketed forwards, covering what would take a car three hours in just under half of one.

When he arrived, he touched down on a balcony and rapped on the glass door. After waiting a few minutes he heard a lock click, and the doors slid open to reveal a bed-headed woman in fuzzy pink pajamas. She blinked and rubbed her eyes, slow to take in the man standing before her. But when she did her eyes opened wide.

"Warren?..." She gaped at him. He smiled and picked her up in a bear hug.

"Storm," he whispered in her ear. "I'm home."

* * *

 _So this is where my story ends. Thank you all who have read this far (I know it's only a select few), I really appreciate all of your support. I couldn't have done this without you. Thank you especially to all of the people who reviewed, followed, and favorited. Your support encouraged me to keep going. I know I only started posting a little while ago, but I've been writing this story for a long time and had a lot done before I started posting. But again, thank you all so much. I hope you all liked it and maybe you love Warren a little bit more now. Okay, bye!_


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